


March Words 8: Dress

by Siriusstuff



Series: March Words [8]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Conversations, Domestic Fluff, Ficlet, Flash Fic, Fluff without Plot, M/M, Married Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, brief mentions of Lydia/Aiden Danny/Ethan Erica/Boyd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-08
Updated: 2018-03-08
Packaged: 2019-03-28 14:22:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13905888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siriusstuff/pseuds/Siriusstuff
Summary: Stiles and Derek talk about clothes, sex, and other things before leaving for Lydia's wedding.





	March Words 8: Dress

**Author's Note:**

> For day 8 of the March Words prompt list: https://inkandblade.tumblr.com/post/171412546721/drabble-me-march
> 
> The word is "dress."
> 
> This is >1K fluffy Sterek fluff without plot, a tag I should get tattooed over my heart.

“There’s a very strong possibility you’re gonna look better than the groom,” Stiles said, regarding Derek’s reflection in the mirror they shared, despite its being meant for one.

“Thanks,” Derek replied casually. “As long as I don’t look better than the bride, we’ll be fine.”

He resumed minor adjustments to his tie.

After a minute, “ _Ahem_ ,” Stiles quietly coughed, “Isn’t it customary to return a compliment?”

“ _Is_ it?” Derek grinned.

“ _Ideally_ it is!”

Derek tugged Stiles close by the waist. Their suits’ colors coordinated, the plum shade of Derek’s matching Stiles’s lush tie, Stiles’s softer purples picked up in the pattern on Derek’s vest.

Lydia Martin’s marriage to Aiden Steiner was a fashion event as much as a wedding ceremony.

“You are beautiful,” Derek assured Stiles, and after a kiss, “But you _always_ are.”

Stiles smiled at that and kissed him back, then turned to assess their reflections again, “Don’t we look like a real power couple,” he stated, no question. “It’s definite too, you’ll outshine Aiden, your purple majesty. He’s gonna be in formal black, Lydia told me.”

“Did she happen to tell you why she’s marrying _him_ , of all the men she dated?” Derek asked again. He didn’t gossip, he really didn’t, but the phrase “out of his league” had come up more than once, just in casual conversation about the upcoming nuptials.

“No, but my theory is based on Danny saying Ethan gives the best head he’s ever gotten.”

Derek’s expression was a visual, _Hunh?_

“Twins share skill sets, don’t they? Isn’t there scientific proof of that? So, Aiden’s mental abilities can’t match Lydia’s, but maybe his tongue’s abili—”

“OK, I get it. What I _don’t_ get is basing a marriage on it,” Derek said.

“What? That’s very sound decision-making, boo!—I married _you_ for your butt!” Stiles grabbed an ass cheek and gently squeezed, then kept his hand there and squeezed some more.

Derek began to heat up.

Stiles shifted them so they were face to face, front against front, smoothing his hands over Derek’s plum-clad chest and shoulders.

“I’m gonna have a boner all day looking at you in this—” He kissed him. “Gorgeous” Another kiss. “Tailored” Another. “Suit.—We should have a signal, so you come over and stand in front of me if I get hard, so I don’t make a spectacle of myself.”

“Because dry humping me through our pants won’t be a spectacle.”

“You understand me perfectly.”

Stiles knew his ardor had reason-nullifying powers. He blamed his husband.

“You look so sexy in this!” he sighed, resigned, ironically, to keeping their clothes on.

“You say the same thing when I wear those old sweatpants.”

“Mmm,” Stiles hummed in confirmation.

“You said the same thing when I wore those jorts and socks with my sandals.”

“You’re turning me on,” Stiles said breathily, wriggling a little against Derek. “I am _so_ fucking you out of these clothes when we get back here tonight.”

“So, that means no drinky-drinky for Stiles at the reception?”

“Oh, I never said that.—But I hereby formally and unconditionally give you permission to ravish me, once we’re home, if I’m shitfaced.”

Derek had to get Stiles’s mind—and now his own—off thoughts of sex or they’d never get to the church in time. “So enticing,” he deflected. “Come on. I promised Boyd we get there early, since he’s by himself.” To get even farther from the subject: “I still can’t get over Lydia asking Erica to be her Matron of Honor.”

“Erica’s perfect,” Stiles insisted. “She’s been through this herself. She’s got the energy. She’s _grounded_. She’s a mommy and used to handling irrational meltdowns. _Perfect_.—But, Derek, it’s ‘Honor Attendant,’ _please_. You refer to Erica as ‘matron’ at your own risk.”

“Got it.—Shall we go?”

“I guess. Lead the way.”

“So you can look at my ass?”

“Your jacket obscures the view.”

With that, Derek removed it. “I don’t want to wrinkle it driving.”

“By all means.”

Stiles took it from him. “You know, we could wear these outfits again. I’ve been thinking.” The idea had been on Stiles’s mind since Lydia’s wedding was announced, but he’d kept quiet about it, till that moment. “We could renew our vows.”

Derek stopped in his tracks. He smiled at the idea but still he questioned, “After just three years?”

“Why not?" Crooning liltingly, "We could second-honeymoon…”

Derek liked _that_ idea Stiles could plainly see.

“And we wouldn’t even need to pack any other clothes—because, you remember, we never put any on the first time.”

They’d reached the car. Derek got behind the wheel. Stiles carefully laid Derek’s jacket across the back seat.

“I’d need a robe at least, to let room service in,” Derek replied.

“As long as it’s a shorty robe, so I can still peek at your butt.”

“You know,” Derek said, “I’m starting to believe you really _did_ marry me for my ass,” as the engine started.

Stiles kissed him with an elaborate _mwah!_

“Keep on believin’, boo. That’s what keeps a marriage alive and kickin’!”


End file.
